Forgotten Luca (The Four 1)

It was one fight I’d known early on I wouldn’t win.

But fuck if I’d give in to that urge around this particular man, even if it was only in my head. He didn’t deserve any real estate in my brain whatsoever.

I turned back to Violet and reached into the water to search out the bar of soap she’d been playing with early on. It was probably the only thing besides getting her out of the tub that would keep her from emptying the thing without the use of the drain. I figured Luca had left the room in a huff because of his wet clothes, so I jumped when his deep voice said, “Here, sweetheart.”

I was up to my elbows in soapy water, so when I saw Luca hand Violet the little soccer ball keychain, I made my own mess as I grabbed for his wrist. “No, it might get ruined,” I said. “I didn’t give it to her in the tub because I didn’t want the name to get messed up.”

I wasn’t sure who was more surprised by my words… him or me. I was supposed to not give a shit about stuff like that. I wasn’t supposed to care that the little keychain clearly had sentimental value to him. Luca, for his part, had that haunted look pass over his features for the briefest of moments.

Then his eyes went to where I was still holding on to him. Violet seemed to notice the byplay between us, so she was fixated on that instead of the keychain.

Luca’s skin felt hot beneath my fingers. And his wrist was thick… not beefy-thick, but strong-thick. Capable.

I jerked my fingers away.

“It’s okay,” Luca murmured. I swore he looked as uncomfortable as I felt, but I couldn’t be sure. I also wasn’t sure if his words were because of the way I’d grabbed him or if he was saying it was okay to give the toddler the keychain.

I made a conscious decision it was the latter, and before I could think about why I was doing it, I reached for his hand and brushed his fingers open. I eased the keychain from his grip and tucked it into my pocket. Violet, of course, noticed the keychain and began repeating my name over and over as she scooted closer to me. I knew we were skirting the edge of a major temper tantrum because I had no intention of giving the keychain to her, so I quickly began searching the tub for the soap again.

“Hey Violet,” Luca said as he stood and stepped over to the sink. He returned with the cup that had been holding a toothbrush by the sink as well as the emptied garbage can. He showed Violet the simple act of filling the smaller cup and dumping it into the garbage can. The toddler’s eyes went wide and then she was reaching for the cup. Luca held the garbage can so it was floating in the water in front of Violet while she filled it the first time. After that, her “I can do it myself” attitude came out and she held the garbage can herself as she slowly filled it with cup after cup of water. Her coordination wasn’t great and she ended up pouring more water back in the tub than the garbage can, but it didn’t matter. She was beyond fascinated.

Disaster momentarily averted.

“Thanks,” I murmured.

“It’s always the simplest things that intrigue them,” Luca said softly as his gaze stayed on Violet. “It took me a long time to figure that out. I’d shower Gio with the latest toys and gadgets, but he always gravitated back to the stuff his mother gave him. She knew how to make it more than just a toy, you know?”

I didn’t know. I had no clue what he was talking about. I was still stuck on the fact that he was a father.

“How so?” I asked, when he didn’t continue.

He was silent for a long beat before saying, “She made it a memory, an experience… something he could keep with him long after the toy was gone. I’ll never forget the first time I managed to get it right.”

The small smile that graced his mouth made something spark to life inside of me. The sensation was nearly painful and I didn’t like it… except that I kind of did.

“What did you get him?” I asked.

“For his eighth birthday I took him to Central Park and kicked a soccer ball back and forth with him. Just us. No bodyguards, cell phone off, used the same soccer ball my brothers and I had kicked around for years when we’d been his age…”

I didn’t even know what part of his statement to process first.

Then I remembered the keychain in my pocket.

So the little trinket did haunt him. It was his son’s.